


Connections

by GhostHost



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Intoxication, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstanding, Romance, beginning of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:04:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHost/pseuds/GhostHost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maccaddam's Old Oil House boasted a lot of activities for its patrons entertainment. Live music, poetry nights, and watching the constant ups and downs of Swindle and Blurr's not-relationship were just the most popular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connections

**Author's Note:**

> Was having a hard time with some nasty IRL stuff, and I was struggling to write/edit anything until I got hit with the Swin/Blurr bug. Started writing out what I thought was a few quick little snapshots and instead wrote this monster. Swindle is such an asshole to articulate I swear. Took me multiple edits to be remotely okay with how he came out. Sneaky POS.

We were victims of the night

The chemical, physical, kryptonite

Helpless to the bass and the fading light

Oh we were bound to get together

Bound to get together

-Shut up and Dance, Walk the Moon.

(I’d like to thank the radio for getting both killing this song for me and also repeatedly getting it stuck in my head. )

 

* * *

  
  
Some days Blurr felt as though he were more famous than the Prime himself. It wasn’t a vain thought-more of an observation. Because in some ways? He was more famous. He was spoken about more in the same way sports stars on Earth were often talked about more than presidents.

 Practically his entire life and definitely his whole career, Blurr had been admired. Worshipped in some cases, but always praised.  Adored and loved. The war, his eventual turn to the Wreckers, did not dampen this any. Instead it added new ways mechs treated him. Adored and hated. Worshipped and cursed. He was still the greatest. He was still known. To ‘Cons, NAILs, ‘Bots, everyone. Kup had done his best to hammer  something out of him, cut a warrior from a superstar. He’d succeeded, but only in making Blurr a competent fighter-and he hadn’t really needed much help there. Blurr had always had the tendency to push himself. To test himself.

Within the Wreckers he was not limited, in any direction.  Instead he was encouraged and Blurr bloomed, into a name that enemies feared and ‘Bots cheered. His fame didn’t die, but tripled. He always managed to handle it with grace (or at least, more grace than he had before the war, before a not yet Optimus Prime had chewed him a new one and made him take a hard look at himself)  but it didn’t stop the rest of the Wreckers from rolling their optics when a mech meeting Blurr became starstruck.

Now his name was known and spoken in unison with his bar. This was great for business- (of course, being the only bar essentially guaranteed a successful business no matter who ran the place.) -and as annoying as it was, his fame worked in his favor.  

That didn’t mean it didn’t bother him.

Asking Blurr questions about his racing career, the Wreckers, or Earth had become par the course for mechs ordering drinks.He obliged them, trying hard to both  keep his temper and keep talking. Keep pouring drinks.  It didn't matter that he no longer really wanted to fight or remember fighting. It didn’t matter that he had sworn up and down that he was retired from racing. It didn’t matter if he was fragging exhausted of talking of nothing but those two subjects.

He wished the fame could stop, if just for a click.

Now that it was becoming safer to do so, mechs were starting to seek him out. They wanted stories, pictures, autographs. They wanted to know what was next. They wanted to hang out, hoping to be accidently drafted into the next adventure (something else he’d sworn off of. Not that anyone believed him, Blurr was as protective of his friends as we was of his bar. Windblade had proven that most recently, though many mechs had proven it just as well over the years.)  It was getting worse, worse than it had been in a long time-and Blurr just wasn’t used to it. Not like this, not anymore. He often found he didn’t have the personality for it either. His winning smiles felt faked. His charm forced. His temper a whole lot worse. Particularly in the face of a constant barrage of questions.

It was the questions, he thinks, that had drawn him to Swindle.

Or rather, the lack of them.

For all the ire his sales routine caused, the mech sure knew his crowd. He seemed to know instinctively how to handle Blurr-half the time giving off the impression he’d forgotten who Blurr had been entirely. Of course Blurr’s other friends did the same-but Swindle just did it better.

Blurr hadn’t realized how  much he had needed that until he started spending more time with Swindle. Even then it’d taken him a while (and a particularly tough night) for him to realize that he didn’t just look forward to the shorter mech showing up, he felt better around him. Relaxed. Happy.  Idiots were easier to handle, drunken antics easier to laugh at. Primus he even stood for more pictures, as long as he had a sympathetic Swindle to shoot sad looks at in between!

Sure, he could do the same thing with his other friends (who doubled as his regulars these days.) They understood his plight. They treated him sanely, like friends should. Many of them had their own problems though (and Primus slag him if he got any more involved in Windblade’s!) and it just wasn’t them that he gravitated towards.Their presence was welcome, but Swindle’s was _craved._

On a quiet night, long after the bar had long closed, Blurr sat behind the counter and thought about why that was.

xXx

 

“Why did you save me?” Blurr asked once, slightly overcharged. It was a stupid thing to do, getting overcharged on his own high grade. He knew it, Swindle knew it, everyone knew it. He hadn’t cared. He had a rough day answering more stupid questions and had indulged. He hadn’t regretted it-even if it’d gotten him a fragging earful.  Swindle had lectured him for almost an hour on how free drinks cost him more in the long run, even if the free drinks were just for himself and friends. Blurr had told him he’d earned it and then shut Swindle up by threatening to take him off the friend list.

“Wha?” Swindle asked, squinting. Blurr had been a little surprised to find that Swindle was a total lightweight-he’d assumed someone in his line of business would have a stronger tank. (“Like I’d ever actually drink on the job.” Swindle had said, utterly offended, when Blurr’d asked about it.  He’d gone on to mutter something about show-off Autobots and how he was saving money anyway, frag you very much. Blurr had smirked, but never brought it up again.)

“Why did you save me?” Blurr asked again. He never had before and couldn’t remember why he hadn’t. Slag he didn’t even think he’d thanked the mech. They were technically even, but still. Manners and all.

“Pr’mus, talk slower.” Swindle grumbled, and Blurr realized he’d been going full speed. Normally it annoyed him to have to repeat himself multiple times but he found himself uncaring. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the drinks or Swindle.

Swindle, as fat Tankor had once pointed out, got away with doing a lot of things that would have otherwise annoyed Blurr.

He tried once more- _’Third time’s a charm, right?’_  and made sure he said it slowly, even it it came out sounding funny.  “Why did you save me?”

“Oh.” Swindle said, frowning. They were seated at Swindle’s table -or rather, the table Blurr had mentally assigned as Swindle’s, since he rarely sat at any other. And screw both the Tankors, he did not get upset when other mechs sat there!- with the conmech slumped across it. Blurr wasn’t doing any better, arms barely holding himself up. “Well-you saved me.”

Blurr made a disagreeing noise. “So you saved me as repayment? No offense Swin,” He said, focusing hard to make the words come out right. “But that’s not exactly like you.”

Swindle as it turned out, was far more gone than Blurr had realized. The conmech went quiet, his field contemplative. It was just at the edge of Blurr’s, close enough for the racer to feel the emotions that flickered in and out. Too fast for him to really identify. Without thinking Blurr projected calm emotions in his own field and let it touch Swindle’s. Gently, just enough to show his support. Swindle glanced at him, clearly surprised, but didn’t pull away. A small, almost shy smile flit onto his faceplates and Blurr was delighted to realize that it was far different from his sales smiles. Much later, when his processor painfully reminded him why inhaling so much high grade was a bad idea, he’d kick himself for not taking a photo.

“No one’s ever tried to save me.” Swindle said softly. “No one’s ever cared to.” Slowly, ever so carefully, his field entwined with Blurr’s. Delighted, Blurr mimicked the gesture.

Oh yes, Swindle was definitely drunker than he’d originally thought, to be spilling things like that. To have so much   _honesty_ in his field.

Of course, Blurr went on to immediately prove he was also more overcharged than he realized, because he blurted out; “I’ll always save you.”

Which broke whatever spell they were under. Swindle started to laugh, field pulling back. Blurr let it go, just as he let a grin slide onto his face. So what if it was silly.

It was the truth.

Swindle shoved at him playfully. He called an end to the night, waving off Blurr’s request to walk him home. “You’re jus’ as messed up as me, I don’ need special treatment..” Swindle had said, swaying. He joked for a minute longer, let Blurr casually follow him to the door. Tossed a credit chip at the racer when he finally left.

Blurr looked at it after locking up. It wasn’t a usual chip. Closer examination proved it was a fake one, modified to have Swindle’s face rather than one of the former Prime’s. A ‘Swinnit’, it read.

It was a gesture. Blurr wasn’t sure what kind of gesture, just that it was one.

Wistfully gazing out the door, Blurr put it in his subspace, with no intentions of ever taking it back out.

xXx

The first time Blurr had kissed Swindle, it took him a moment to realize he’d fragged up. Swindle had responded happily, just as tipsy (or so Blurr had thought) as Blurr was. The racer remembered suppressed emotions crashing through him, just barely kept clear of his field when Swindle pulled back. In a purring, low voice; he’d asked “And what are we looking for this evening?”

Blurr, drunk more on Swindle’s lips than any actual high grade, chased him forward. Swindle grinned, letting two fingers stop Blurr from reconnecting with his mouth.

“Answer me Blurr. What are you looking to get out of this?”

Blurr grinned loopily back at him. “You.” He said quietly, kissing two thick fingers. Swindle’s optics darkened in interest.

“Wonderful, but a little vague. Give me specifics.”

Blurr’s engine revved, his own optics darkening. “Never pegged you for one who liked dirty talk.”

“It’s not dirty talk, its business.” Swindle said, engine revving right back. “I can’t charge accurately if I go in blind, after all.”

This was taking to long. Impatient, Blurr ducked his head, trailing kissing down Swindle’s wrist. Nibbling. Enticing.  “Charge what?” He asked, not really paying listening. Why wasn’t Swindle moving this elsewhere by now? The bar was closed-only Sky Byte and a few other regulars-ones used to staying after hours-remained.

Sensing Blurr’s processor was a little bogged down by lust, Swindle opted for a different route.

“Let’s try this,” He said it in a voice that should have been illegal (and likely was illegal. Blurr knew Swindle had mods. He wouldn’t have been surprised if one of those mods had to do with a positively sinful vocalizer setting.)  “Tell me, exactly, what it is you want tonight.” He caught Blurr’s optics and held them, making sure his words penetrated the haze that had settled over the racer.

Blurr stared at him, the weirdness of the situation finally giving his processor the kick it needed. “You.” Blurr said,  confused. “I want you.”

One optic ridge raised. “And you can have me. For a price.”

His remaining regulars would later swear they saw the lightbulb flash above Blurr’s head the exact moment he realized what Swindle had been asking. He reared back as though struck, optics shooting wide.

“You want me to pay!? For _fragging_ you!?” He blurted out, a bit louder than he meant too. His field shot back, as _hurt/confusion_ roared through it. Swindle’s had apparently retreated a while ago -when had that happened!?-leaving Blurr floundering.

“You should be happy,” Swindle leaned back himself, going on the defensive. “I haven’t considered a deal like this for vorns!”

“No-that’s not what-look-frag,” Blurr struggled frantically, trying to make the words come out right. “I don’t want you in my berth, not like-Primus!” Blurr cut off, knowing he wasn’t making sense. He couldn’t say what he really wanted. That he didn’t just want Swindle in his berth, he wanted him  in his spark.  Of course he’d heard that enough times from crazy fans to know how it sounded. You couldn’t go from zero to one hundred in a relationship-even if that was all Blurr knew how to do. His processor overclocked from the sudden changes, struggled to give him a way to put that into words that wouldn’t run the conmech right off.

Perplexed, Swindle frowned at him. “That’s fine. Honestly, you know I’m flexible, we can do something casual-”

“No!” Blurr bit out. Frag the implications of this was getting worse and worse! “I don’t want to pay you for anything, Swindle!”

Oh that’d been the wrong thing to say. Swindle’s face closed abruptly. The shorter mech stood up, shoving away from the table. “Then you’re out of luck Blurr.” He snapped, armor slicking in close. The only hint Blurr got to how upset he really was. “Because I do not do anything for free.”

Blurr shot to his feet. He tried to say something and was horrified to realize that he couldn’t. Thousands of words roared through his processor. Explanations, demands, pleas. It was as though he had so many thoughts they simply clogged his vocalizer and nothing could get out.

By the time he got it working Swindle was already gone.

Blurr collapsed back into the chair, not bothering to give chase.

He replayed the moment, trying to figure out what he hated the most about what had transpired. The realization that Swindle only saw him as a potential client-or the fact that Swindle had sold himself previously. Both made his spark squeeze, his chest ache.

The last remaining mech, Sky-Byte, patted him on the shoulder before he left, leaving Blurr to his empty bar and desperately churning emotions.

xXx

Swindle hadn’t come into the bar for weeks.

Windblade had come by and was apparently caught up on the situation, as she immediately came over to Blurr. He didn’t want her pity hug, or her pity pat, or her pity filled optics.

He tolerated them anyway, knowing she was just trying to help.

“I’ll talk to him.” She said after a while.  Blurr had to turn so she couldn’t see him roll his optics. Talk to him? And tell him what, exactly? Primus, as far as he knew they were barely acquaintances!  He doubted Windblade would even be able to _find_ him!

Which of course, she didn’t. She came back Swindle-less and looking dejected. Blurr had thanked her anyway-it was the proper thing to do, even if he wanted to yell at them all to just butt out- and moped around for another few days.

Four more days after that, Slug, of all mechs, slammed down his drink, loudly announced that he was “Fragging tired of this shit, Primus fuck!” and stormed out.

He came back with a protesting Swindle in tow.

“I didn’t ask him to do that.” Was all Blurr could think to say, as Swindle was shoved toward the bar.

“Whatever.” Swindle avoided looking at him. After a long awkward moment where it was obvious he was debating whether or not he could book it, he sighed and took a seat.

Blurr awkwardly cleared his intake. “You, uh, want your usual?”

“You going to make me pay for it?” Swindle sneered.

“I don’t make my friends pay.” Which wasn’t at all true-most of the time anyway, but it was an old argument. Familiar territory.

Swindle finally looked up, locked optics with Blurr. They stared each other down. Blurr didn’t know what Swindle saw, but it must have been something because after a moment he slumped down a bit.

“You fragging well should.” He muttered. “Get me my regular.”

Blurr obliged.

It took them two weeks for it to go back to normal.

It was the worst two weeks in Blurr’s life.

 

xXx

Blurr felt like he’d asked advice from nearly every mech who’d come through the bar. Well. ‘Asked’ was pushing it a bit. ‘Told’ might have been closer. Several of his regulars had picked up on his problem and in doing so ended up giving him all kinds of advice. Others had quickly joined in on it and soon “fix Blurr’s love life” had become the game of the week.

It certainly caught Jazz’s attention.

“Oh he’s interested in you. That’s obvious enough. He knows you like ‘im, too.” Jazz had said, after a performance. Blurr felt the urge to punch him. Everyone damn well knew he liked Swindle. Just as everyone damn well knew Swindle didn’t-which was why he’d tried to capitalize off of Blurr’s attraction. Really, Blurr should have saw that one coming. He knew Swindle’s reputation. He had just never thought that the oft spoken warning of  “will try to make money off anything” really did apply to _anything._

“He just doesn’t think you mean it.” Jazz continued with that awful little grin of his.

“Excuse you?” Blurr deadpanned. Jazz might’ve had kicked his aft once, but he’d been unprepared. He knew better now-and he was perfectly ready for round two This whole mess had gotten him over his new “the war’s over let's put it behind us” aversion to fighting and Jazz was pushing every button Blurr had.

“Look, you have to think about from Swindle’s point of view. He doesn’t roll with people like you n’ me. Or well, shall we say better people than you n’ me.” Jazz’s field buzzed with humor. Blurr ignored it. He glared down the former TIC, his own field slowly reflecting his murderous emotional state. Jazz, showing that he did in fact have special ops training, finally seemed to pick up on it  because he sobered abruptly. He leaned in towards Blurr, speaking lower. Steadier. “People can do desperate things when they need something, Blurr.  How many times do you think Swindle’s been propositioned by someone with honest intentions? How many times do you think someone asked him out just because they liked him? Cause between you n’ me, I’m thinking it’s zero.”

Blurr didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to listen to Jazz’s poison, or drag this out anymore than he had too, but  frag it all he hadn’t even considered that.

Jazz nodded approvingly, as if he could see Blurr’s coming realization. “Swindle deals in things no one else will. Those dealin’s have killed a lot of things for him. Morals. Ideals. Fantasies. I’d bet you this bar that he’s convinced himself you aren't looking for a relationship. That you don’t want him for more than a quick lay, or somethin’ else entirely. That it don’t matter what he wants. In his life, everything’s got a price. There are strings and hidden agendas in everything a mech does.” Jazz’s visor meant he was unable to burn holes into Blurr’s optics, but Blurr felt the heat of it anyway.

“He’s the kinda mech who's been in the dark for so long he thinks the light is a lie.” Jazz said, his voice suddenly growing lighter. Back to its normal, jovial tone. “You’re job, mah mech, is to convince him otherwise. Won’t be easy, but then hey, what is these days?”

Blurr shook his head. Jazz was wrong. While they’d been back to normal for a while, Blurr had tried, twice, to bring up the subject of relationships. Both times had gone very, very poorly. Out of fear of restarting the argument Blurr had completely dropped it-but Swindle’s words still rang clear in his processor.

“Being courted? Bonding? It’s all one big shoddy production. Love doesn’t exist. Romance is dead Blurr, and pretty words like the kind Windblade speaks are all just lies.”

The irony that Blurr disagreed based on his own desperate desire to court Swindle wasn’t lost on him.

“Look for tells.” Jazz continued, grinning. “Little things. Small touches, small gestures, things he does only for you. He’s got tells, Blurr. Everybody does.”

“I like you Jazz.” Blurr said it with a finality, turning back to his dirty dishware and making it clear the conversation was over. “But you’re full of it.”

Tells. How dumb. Swindle had no tells.

Blurr started looking for them that night.

 

xXx

Swindle brushed his fingers lightly against Blurr’s as he handed him his glass and all he could do was curse Jazz to the pit and back.

Swindle had tells. His tells said he liked the frag out of Blurr.

It brought Blurr joy, even if he hated that it made Jazz right. For a while he’d thought Swindle was just a good enough con mech to keep up the touches, the glances. The careful brushes of field that were getting more confident with each day that passed (and each day that took them further away from their fight.) He brought him energon when Blurr had forgotten to refuel. He taken back over as the bars bookkeep, pro bono, despite all protests and offers of credits.

Primus, Swindle had even purchased a few TV’s for the place. At a heavily discounted price he claimed, that was more for his benefit as a patron than anything else. (No one believed him for an instant.)  Now that they had been pointed out Blurr saw the little glances, the way Swindle looked for him. Searching him out. He caught hints and bits in Swindle’s field-jealously, lust, affection, even possessiveness on one rare instance. Always quick, always fleeting, but definitely there.  Yet every time anything even remotely romantic was brought up, Swindle shied like one of the humans pack animals. Or worse, went into full blown sales mode.

This was beyond him. Way beyond him, Blurr decided. He didn’t need to try and decode this slag. He had other people who would do that for him.

Determined, he set off in search of his friends. “Fix Blurr’s love life” was still an active game. He had a new element to add to  it. He hadn’t asked for advice before, but now that he needed it, he knew it wouldn’t be unwelcome.Quite the opposite, in fact.

He had a damn mystery to solve and everybody liked mysteries.

xXx

Blurr knew two things to be absolutely true. The clientele at Maccadams was fragging awful at solving mysteries, and his love life was completely doomed. He had never been closer to giving up in his life. Swindle could just own him, body and soul, without ever truly believing it. Because that was what it was going to come down to. Him, having a complete and utter crush on Swindle, constantly bending backwards to get small bits of affection, and Swindle, running off to deal with who knew how many devils, utterly uncaring because he didn’t believe healthy relationships were a thing.

Darker thoughts chased circles around his head and he let them, determined to sulk. He was entitled to bad days too, wasn’t he? Everyone else could just frag off.  

“Why not juzzzt azzk Swindle for advizze? Thizz iz the kind of ztuff he dealzz with all the time, izzzn’t it?”

Blurr, whose helm had been firmly entrenched on the table, slowly lifted it to  stare at Waspinator. Waspinator stared back, large purple optics blinking innocently. Most of the time, Blurr wondered how the insect had managed to survive the war at all, let alone on the side of the ‘Cons, but as today proved he wasn’t always a stupid as he looked.

“That’s a brilliant idea.” Blurr said, though it came out something more like “Thazabrillantidea!”

Swindle’s entire MO was talking mechs into believing in this they didn’t. No one would be better at answering how Blurr could prove to him he didn’t have ulterior motives. No one  would know how he could show his real intentions. It wouldn’t matter if the mech in question Blurr was asking about was him. Swindle had an answer for every question. Had a way to talk the most disbelieving mech into doing whatever he wanted. Ideas, potential plans came to life in Blurr’s processor as possibilities opened themselves up.

“Thanks buddy!” He said, springing to his feet.

Waspinator watched him speed around the bar with renewed vigour.

“Ten credits says Waspinator has no idea that Swindle’s the mech Blurr’s trying to court.” Fat Tank said to the group at the bar. Slug huffed air out of his vents.

“No one’s stupid enough to take that bet.” He said, watching as Blurr dropped another drink in front of the insect and told him it was on the house. Waspinator made an excited noise, happily thanking him and sipping at it.

“He’s just lucky his obliviousness worked in his favor. Again.”

xXx

 

He had a plan. It was a stupid plan, but it was a plan.

In the end, all Blurr could hope was that it would work.

“Hey, Swin. ‘C’mere.”

The amount of time it took Swindle to come lean on the bar couldn’t have been more than a few clicks. It didn’t stop it from feeling like ages to Blurr. He knew that was the anxiety talking, but it didn’t make it any easier. He took a deep vent, tried not to fidget and said; “I’ve been offered advice by every fraggin’ mech from here to Earth. Every mech except the one I should have been asking advice from.”

Swindle’s grin was small, but no less amused. “And what kind of advice are we looking for?”

It took Blurr a moment to speak. He had to gather himself. Jazz-along with most of the bar- had been positive that Swindle would never assume he was the mech being talked about. That he wouldn’t even consider himself to be an option. That if Blurr kept it vague, he’d never guess he was who Blurr had fixated on.  It didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult, because it was fragging obvious to Blurr.

“I have a mech I’m interested in. Romantically. A mech I’d like to court.” He started. Swindle froze for the briefest of seconds-Blurr would have never seen it if he wasn’t watching. _‘Got you, you slagger.’_ He thought happily, if not vindictively. Swindle hid his true feelings better than anyone he knew-to get a clear tell that Swindle might be interested in him made this a smidgen easier. “He’s an idiot though, thinks I don’t like him like that.”

“I’m assuming you’ve told him you wanted to court him?” Swindle said, speaking carefully. Carefully for someone who knew him well enough to tell anyway.

“Sort of. He uh, didn’t let me get that far-he doesn’t think I’m serious. Frankly he might even think I’m-” Blurr felt his speech pick up speed and cut himself off.  “He basically said words are useless.”

“Smart mech.” Swindle finally looked at him, large optics impossible to read. “Words are useless. Did you try showing him?”

“Physically yes. He wasn’t convinced. Pretty sure he thinks I just want a frag toy. Not a serious relationship.” Blurr let air flow hard out of his vents-a transformers sigh. “I’m strugglin’ here Swin. Nothing I say or do seems to convince him otherwise-he’s got this set way of thinking and he won’t listen. I don’t know how I can make myself clear that I’m serious about this.”

Swindle gave him his best sales grin. It didn’t reach his optics.  

“Your problem then, is that you need a way to absolutely prove your feelings?”

Blurr nodded. “Something like that, yeah.”

“We’ll you’re oh so very lucky, that you know me then. I have just the thing.” Swindle rummaged in his subspace for a moment before coming up with a thin cord. Blurr raised his optic ridges at it. He’d been expecting something (something Swindle could sell anyway) but he’d gotten to the point faster than Blurr had thought he would. “This right here is the answer to all your little problems!” Swindle said.

Blurr stared at it, light making it glint. “Is that what I think that is?” He asked, incredulous. If it was, then it was an ancient relic. Where did Swindle even get these things!?

“If you are thinking it’s a hardlink cable, you are absolutely, 100% correct!” Swindle held said cable out, presented it like one would a prize. Blurr didn’t take it.

Hardlink cables were rare simply because they were outdated. No one, not even the oldest mech Blurr knew (Kup, and don’t ask how) used them. Originally intended as part of interfacing, they had long since fallen out of favor. Having a cable link your mind and emotions with another mech was now considered useless for those who were unbounded-and mechs these days were just simply far more private than they had been before the war. It was a pain to interface with because the cord would always manage to get in the way, and over-all it had a bad habit of knocking both participants offline when one of them experienced a strong overload. In fact, the longer Blurr thought about it the more he thought it had been made illegal for the sure amount of medical emergencies it could potentially cause. It wasn’t  even used in trials  anymore, wherein it used to be to aid with a mech’s innocence. Mnenosurgeons had eliminated the need for it.

Blurr watched the cord dangle from Swindle’s servos as the possibilities hit him. Hardlink cables might have been old, but they were reliable. With a hardlink cable, one could send false thoughts-lies-but they could not send false emotions. It was a basic, transformer polygraph.

It was, exactly, what Blurr had needed.

Fraggit, he really should have gone to Swindle sooner with his problem. The mech really did have an answer for everything.

It took no time at all for Blurr’s stupid, well thought out plan to go right out the window and for a slightly less thought out (but definitely still stupid) plan to take its place.

“Could you test this out with me? I just-I wanna make sure I do it right.” Blurr said, practically breathless. A difficult thing for a mechanoid to achieve, but Blurr managed it.

He studied Swindle closely, looking for a reaction. He got none. Swindle simply unspooled the cable, stretching it out between them.

“You are welcome to test my products for authenticity.” He said, as he handed it to Blurr. Blurr surprised the urge to roll his optics. Swindle had finally launched into his full-blown sales routine. Blurr had never been fond of those.

Thankfully he wouldn’t be seeing that look for much longer. He watched as Swindle plugged the cable into his medical ports. Blurr followed suite, mimicking his companion.  

“From here,” Swindle instructed, “You can request access to your partner. You won’t be granted automatic access, just as they won’t be given access to you. You have to accept them in first by-yes, lowering your firewalls.” He said as Blurr did just that. The sales smile flashed at him again. Blurr took a moment to steady himself before moving onto the next step. Swindle thought he was simply testing the product, simply sealing the deal.

How wrong he was.

“Does my partner also need to be accepted for this to work? If I just want to show them my emotions?” He asked.

“No.” Swindle said. “If your feelings are honest and sincere, then they’ll feel that.” Words, Blurr knew, Swindle did not believe in. “Show them how you really feel. That can be done purely from giving them access to you. You don’t need to be given access to their side unless you want to feel their reaction. Of course if that’s how you Auto-ah, romantic saps would like to do it, then you’re welcome to request it. It won’t hinder you any either way.”

“I don’t care if they give me access.” Blurr tried to focus, to rid himself of nerves. “And to clarify, this means they, 100%, cannot question my feelings for them? ”

Swindle gave a fond, if somewhat faked and oversold, sigh. “No. You’re little crush will be forced to face your feelings without any kind of denial. At least any sane denial anyway.”

“Good.” Blurr said. This was it. Now or never.  

With a determined smile, he gave Swindle access.

Swindle blinked at him, for a moment shocked out of his sales routine. Blurr had granted him full access to himself-his thoughts and emotions, just as Swindle had instructed. The connection was established quickly and Blurr felt everything escape from his processor, down the wire that linked them.

Staring into Swindle’s blown-wide optics, Blurr hit him with every bottled up emotion he had.

 _Affection/excitement/lust/anxiety/_ -IWANTTOCOURTYOU,YOUIDIOT- _/joy/frustration/happiness_ hit with all the force of Astrotrain.

Swindle seemed to freeze in place, mouth ajar. Time slowed down as they stared at each other, as Blurr’s affections pulsed between them.

Something akin to disbelief-or was that panic? Descended into the jeeps field. Blurr was blocked from Swindle’s feelings, but that did nothing to stop the instinct that the conmech was clearly facing. They both knew he was about to bolt.

Blurr’s optics narrowed. He rose out of his chair, placing hands on either side of Swindle. He  leaned close, field extending as if to catch his quarry and hold him in place. Swindle jerked back, craning his neck to look up.

 _Frustration/determination/relief/excitement/_ -JUSTTRYIT!-  shot across the connection.

“You run,” Blurr growled into Swindle’s audio. A shiver wracked his frame at the words. “And I’ll chase you down. We both know who's going to win that race, Swindle.”

“You’d never find me.” He said, voice tight.

“I’d never let you get far enough to disappear.” Blurr countered.

Swindle flinched, clearly conflicted. Blurr focused on the one-way connection, sending all the positive emotions and thoughts he could conjure. Swamping him with romantic affections.

Blurr pulled back after a moment, just enough to give Swindle a bit of room. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. I’ll never bring it up again. Or, if you prefer, you can leave and I won’t hold it against you if you never come back.” He paused, letting his words sink in. Let his emotions back him up. “ But if you tell me you want this Swindle,” The throaty growl turned into a purr. The change had a vulgar effect on Blurr’s voicecoder-and a powerful one on Swindle’s clenched spark. “And you’ll have me. Forever.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Swindle said it quietly. Not a whisper, but close. He refused to look at Blurr, optics suddenly burning holes in the table.

“That’s not a no.” Blurr said. After a moment of silence, he tried again.  “Tell me why.” Blurr nudged at the firewalls still blocking him from Swindle’s side.  “Better yet, show me.”

Swindle fidgeted, but largely remained unmoving. His vents came in short bursts. “Trust me.” Blurr whispered. He echoed it in his mind, turned it into a chant. _‘Trust me, trust me, trust me.’_ His affection flowed from him freely. He let his thoughts escape. The longer Swindle took to respond the more Blurr thought about all the things he loved about him. His smile-his real one. The way he walked when he was tipsy. The way his hands moved as he talked, the way his optics dimmed at night. He recalled memories of Swindle saving him from drunken fans, of them laughing together. How Swindle fit perfectly at his side, in his life.

He thought about the fight they’d had, his own confusion. His own hurt. He thought about what Jazz had said. What advice he’d been given. He built it up, his own journey, his own struggles, his refusal to give up.

All because he was bound and determined for Swindle to see the truth. It didn’t matter now if Swindle rejected him-it would hurt, Blurr didn’t hide that-as long as he understood what he was rejecting.  

As long as he understood what Blurr was offering.

Swindle vented hard at that. A second later, he gave Blurr access.

His firewalls dropped and Blurr was overwhelmed.

_fear/frustration/anger/fear/worry/anxiety/lying/lying/ **lying-**_

It was worse than Jazz had thought. The disbelief was what struck the hardest, what centered the absolute storm of thoughts and emotions raging in Swindle. It blasted Blurr sideways. Knocked him about until he felt positively lost. He struggled, fighting to find purchase, unused to being bombarded with such negativity. Something- a stray thought, a pulse outside of the storm- passed him. It was different, so different from the negativity he was surrounded with that he chased it automatically. It avoided him-Swindle avoided him, hitting him with everything else and Blurr combated with his own feelings.

He drew them around him like a shield. He focused, bound and determined to do this right. Blurr reached inside himself, searching his own emotions. His own thoughts-for those special moments. The times his spark flickered, his tank rolled. The time he felt the strongest about Swindle. He let it unfurl around him-let Swindle taste it.

Something else hit him and with sudden clarity, he knew that Swindle was scared. That he didn’t want Blurr to know that, considered it an ultimate failing. In the same instant, Blurr let him know that it was okay.

He _understood._

It went through the storm like a shot and for a moment they both experienced a second of shocked wonder. In the wake of it, the small parts Swindle was hiding, the parts Blurr now knew he thought of as weak, revealed themselves. The very thing Blurr had been chasing shyly presented itself and he latched onto it. It flowed over him, filled him with the joy and wonder he’d been hoping for.

He grinned, and couldn’t resist the urge to laugh.

This was what he had wanted! What he had hoped for! Proof that the attraction, the lust the want the need, that it was all _mutual_. Really and truly mutual!

That Swindle wanted a relationship just as badly as Blurr did.

With these feelings came fears. Blurr reeled as they hit hard, struggling to make sense of them as they pounded away. Warnings shot across his HUD-his short term memory was threatening to shut down, his core processor unused to such backlash. For a moment Blurr wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stand it, but just as fast as they hit, they left, and a second set of realizations rocked Blurr.

He found himself momentarily booted out of their mental mess, all too aware of his own body and how he’d been ignoring everything that wasn’t part of their internal struggle.

“Oh, Swin.” He said, stunned. “Swin, no.”  He touched his forehead to Swindle’s, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. Swindle flinched at the touch but otherwise remained still.

He hadn’t thought Blurr would want him. Not for a bondmate. Hadn’t thought anyone would. There was a lifetime of insecurities, of bad encounters and worse experiences. Harsh words, abandonment, pain, misfortune-and it all swirled down to a simple concept;

No one had ever loved Swindle.

In his mind, no one ever would.

Not for himself. Not for anything but something he couldn’t be. He’d never had a partner who hadn’t betrayed him, never had a mech who didn’t want something from him. Even before he’d became who he was, before he ever dabbled in dealing. Memories-thoughts he could never say aloud, rolling, sick emotions swamped him and even now he considered this a weakness. Something Blurr would, eventually use against him.

Because that’s what everyone else in his life had done.  

A combination of rage and love blasted out of Blurr like a supernova. He shoved it fiercely, in front of Swindle’s doubts. Sent the rage against the bad memories, let his thoughts ring clear. Swindle jerked as it hit, head flying back. Against Swindle’s deepest emotions-his fears his desires, Blurr’s own drowned everything out. For the first time in his creation, the racer was certain that he loved Swindle.

After a moment he told him that. “You’re special Swin. To me. I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks or does. I don’t care how many times I have to prove it. You mean a lot to me and _I love you.”_

“All of this,” And he knew Swindle wasn't seeing him but rather his storm of intense _rage/love/lust_ that ran between them, “is for me?”

“Every last bit.” Blurr said. “If you’ll have me.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Swindle’s amazement and shock grew into something else. Something deeper. Something that made Blurr’s engine practically purr. It was tentative and fragile. It was weighed down by doubts, but Blurr didn’t care.

It was there. That was all that mattered.

Quietly, so quietly he was certain he was the only one who heard, Swindle said; “I would like to try. For a relationship with you. If you’ll have me.” His voice was as uncertain as Blurr's had ever heard it, speech oh so careful. This was a mech he’d never seen, a part of Swindle he didn’t think anyone saw often if ever.

Blurr’s spark sang. Swindle reached out, tracing Blurr’s face with his fingers. He tugged suddenly, determination slinging through him. Blurr took the hint and bent forward, right into the kiss.

This time, he got it right.


End file.
